


Curried Crab

by Dark_Dreymer



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Birthday Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 20:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11448111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Dreymer/pseuds/Dark_Dreymer
Summary: Wilson wants to celebrate House’s birthday but House is reluctant.





	Curried Crab

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older fic, I'm simply adding it to the archive.

“Why do we have to go out again?” House moaned, struggling as Wilson tried to button his shirt all the way to the top.  
“Because it’s your birthday and we’re meant to be celebrating,” Wilson replied, sounding aggravated.  
“So why can’t we just drink some beer, watch some TV and then grope each other on the couch until we pass out.”  
“Because celebrations usually include doing something different and exciting and we do that at least once a week,” Wilson said, still struggling to get House to wear the shirt properly.  
House grinned and pulled Wilson against him, his lips seeking Wilson’s earlobes (Wilson loved it when House did that), but his advances were halted by Wilson’s palm.  
“Don’t think you’re distracting me that easily,” Wilson said, fixing House with his patented glare.  
House sighed and realized that Wilson wouldn’t be stopped, his mind was made up and they were going to have to go out. Still there was no reason why House would have to go out practically choking to death because the collar of his shirt was so tight.

After another minute of attempting to make House button his shirt, Wilson pulled away cursing under his breath.  
“You know what, forget it,” Wilson said, trying to regain his usual calm. “It doesn’t matter anyway.”  
House smirked, inwardly congratulating himself for his victory over Wilson.

Wilson looked down at his watch, “We should get going.”  
“So wherever we’re going has a starting time,” House said. “That narrows down the choices.”  
“Are you still trying to guess where we’re going?” Wilson muttered, slightly exasperated by House’s behavior.  
“You know me, can’t resist a puzzle,” House said grinning.  
Wilson thought this through in his head, if House was busily trying to figure out where they were going then he would either bug Wilson for the whole journey or be quietly contemplating the things he had deduced, Wilson prayed it would be the second.  
Wilson let a small smile tug at his lips before pulling open the front door to the apartment and motioning towards it with his hand.

*

The peace and quiet of the car journey lasted all of five minutes. House had been sat in the passenger seat quietly thinking, as Wilson had hoped he would, and pressing the button so that the window moved up and down. They had just stopped at a set of traffic lights when House turned to Wilson and triumphantly stated: “We’re going to a play.”

Wilson had a quick debate in his head as to how to answer this. Honesty? If House knew he was right he might be smugly quiet for the rest of the journey. Lying? Well, once they arrived it would be obvious and House would be annoyed and slightly hurt.  
“Yeah.” Wilson sighed, sounding slightly deflated that House had unraveled the mystery so soon.  
“I seem to remember us having a discussion about why people go to see plays,” House said. “Do you remember?”  
“Of course,” Wilson said. “You claim that the only reason a guy ever goes to a play is because he’s being dragged there by a woman who he wants to sleep with.”  
“Exactly.”  
“I take it I’m the woman in this case.”  
“Right again. So do you think we could skip the play and get right to the sex?”  
Wilson gave House a quick ‘I am not amused’ look, before returning his gaze to the road.  
“I take it that’s a ‘no’?” House muttered.  
“That’s a ‘no’,” Wilson confirmed.  


*

Wilson parked the car only a block away from the theatre so that House wouldn’t have too far to walk.  
“If it’s a musical, I’m going home right away,” House grumbled as they walked the last block to the theatre. Wilson didn’t answer, he’d learnt long ago that sometimes it was better not to respond when House started complaining.

They rounded a corner and suddenly the theatre was right in front of them. There was a large poster across the front of the theatre, it was reasonably plain, just a black background with ‘WE WILL ROCK YOU’ written across it in white.  
Wilson looked over at House, his face was caught in a momentary look of joy before he rearranged his features into his usual neutral gaze and looked at Wilson.  
“We’re going to see ‘We Will Rock You’, right?” He asked.  
Wilson nodded.  
“Okay,” House said.  
Wilson knew that this was the closest House would get to saying that maybe Wilson had actually found a play that House may enjoy.  


*

Wilson had bought the tickets in advance so they didn’t have to wait in the long queue and were able to sit down in some seats in the Lobby while they waited.

As Wilson gazed around the room he noticed that he seemed oddly out of place. Most of the people were dressed similarly to House, a half-assed attempt to look formal that had ended up looking casual anyway. Wilson in his neatly ironed shirt and tie stuck out like a giraffe on an iceberg, it felt like a strange reversal of roles between House and himself.  
*  
House enjoyed the performance, though he tried hard to look as if he was only mildly enjoying it. Wilson noticed that he tapped his foot to the beat of some of the songs, and was often on the verge of laughing at some of the jokes but forced himself to only smirk.

Half an hour before the end of the performance Wilson left to go to the bathroom, while he was there he sent a text to his helpers saying: ‘Half n hour b4 we leave.’  
Wilson always wrote shorthand in texts, except to House. House hated abbreviating messages for some reason and moaned that he couldn’t read Wilson’s messages if he did it. It always seemed to take House half an hour to write a message.  
Wilson hurried back but House hardly seemed to have noticed he was gone, he was so caught up in a particularly loud rendition of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’  


*

On the ride back to House’s apartment Wilson asked if House had enjoyed the show.  
“It was alright,” House muttered, tapping out the rhythm to ‘I Want To Break Free’ on the dashboard.  
Wilson smiled to himself, knowing that House had enjoyed the show.  


*

When they arrived back at the apartment, House was busily trying to remove Wilson’s tie while placing quick kisses along his throat. Wilson was struggling to open the door and stop House’s advances.  
“House, stop. Not now: Later.” Wilson was half-pleading as he managed to open the door.  
The apartment was dark. House stopped kissing Wilson and hurriedly limped into the apartment to see what was wrong. His first thoughts were of burglary but then he spotted the coffee table.

Someone – and House had a pretty good idea who – had cleared the coffee table of it’s usual clutter and covered it with a tablecloth way too big for it. On the coffee table were two portions of curry, which had been scooped out of their containers and arranged neatly onto two of House’s best plates (Which he hardly ever used). On either side of the plates a knife and fork had been carefully placed so that they were parallel. In front of each plate a napkin had been meticulously folded into a fan shape, though a lot more effort had been put into one than the other. The centre of the coffee table held a glass of water with a single red rose in it, to either side of this there were candles burning away merrily and giving the whole room a warm orange glow: The whole thing practically screamed Cameron.

Cameron and Chase were the only people who knew about House and Wilson’s relationship, at least at the moment. They’d found out in the same way House had discovered their relationship, they’d walked in on them kissing.  
They hadn’t told anyone. Wilson had appealed to Cameron’s sense of decency and House had played the ‘I’m Your Boss’ card.

Wilson took one look at the whole arrangement and winced, strongly feeling the urge to face-palm; he didn’t however.  
“I forgot Cameron’s idea of romantic is horribly clichéd,” Wilson stated.  
House smirked slightly and headed over to the curtains, opening them. Now that the room was lit, Wilson blew out the candles.  
House hobbled back over to the couch and sank into it, holding his thigh.  
“Are you okay?” Wilson asked, eyeing House worriedly.  
“It’s nothing,” House said taking out his Vicodin and, making it blatantly obvious, took only one.

Wilson sat down next to House and picked up his fork.  
“It’s not very practical putting it on a plate,” Wilson observed. “It’s so much easier picking up a container, it’s why they put it into the container in the first place.”  
“Cameron isn’t practical when she’s being romantic,” House said. “That’s why she was trying to get me when I was already so obviously attracted to you.”  
Wilson smiled and picked a piece of chicken out of his curry with his fork. House was busily eyeing the napkins.  
“Your napkin is folded really carefully and mine’s scruffy,” House said, thinking out loud.  
“Maybe it’s to represent our style.” Wilson said, grinning.  
House returned the grin briefly before returning to his thoughts, “Chase was helping her, wasn’t he?”  
“Once again Sherlock House has figured out the intricate workings of something incredibly simple,” Wilson said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Eat your curry before it gets cold.”  
“Yes, Mom,” House said in a childish tone, picking up his fork. “How much did you have to pay Cameron and Chase to do this?”  
“50 Bucks.”  
“Each?” House asked.  
“Each,” Wilson confirmed.  
“I could’ve got them to do it for free,” House claimed proudly.  
“Tell me how O’ Master of Manipulation,” Wilson said, wiggling his fingers at House.  
“I would’ve just been really mushy with Cameron about wanting to give you a really romantic birthday, and then told Chase that Cameron was already helping.”  
Wilson had to admire the logic behind this even if it was rather insulting towards Cameron and Chase.

“You know, Stacy once compared me to a curry,” House said, striking a new conversation.  
“Really, why?” Wilson said, interested.  
“She said that you know a curry will be hot and that it’ll burn your mouth out, but you sit there and eat it until you can’t take anymore and then you tell yourself you’ll never eat a curry again. But then a couple of months later, you’re sat there eating a salad and you think to yourself, ‘God, I miss curry.’”  
Wilson had to admire the analogy, but he had one of his own: “I think you’re more like crab.”  
“What?” House asked, his mouth full of curry.  
“When you’re at a restaurant and you order crab, you know it’s going to be difficult to eat but you order it anyway. So it’s bought to you and you sit there with your hammer, you hit at it and pull at it and struggle with it until it cracks open enough for you to get a little bit of the meat. You look down at the meat and you think 'was this really worth all that effort?', then you taste it and it’s one of the most delicious things you’ve ever eaten, so you pick up the hammer and start hitting away again.”  
House swallowed his mouthful of curry and stared thoughtfully at Wilson for a second. Then he leaned over and whispered in Wilson’s ear: “Wanna have a go at cracking me open?”  
Wilson grinned and pressed his lips against House’s neck. “Hell yeah,” He managed to mutter.

House placed his fingers under Wilson’s chin and lifted his face upwards so that their mouths were millimeters apart. Wilson could smell the curry on House’s breath and feel the warmth on his lips and cheeks as House exhaled. He quickly closed the gap between the two of them, mouths pressed together in a deep, passionate kiss. House was once again attempting to pull off Wilson’s tie and this time Wilson wasn’t trying to stop him. House’s tongue was invading Wilson’s mouth and Wilson’s own tongue was desperately pressing against it, trying to recover some lost ground, but House was feeling dominant and wouldn’t back away.

The kiss broke only when they were both in desperate need of oxygen, even then however, House still placed soft kisses on Wilson’s chin. House settled himself on top of Wilson, with his tie now removed, House set about undoing each of Wilson’s shirt buttons. House had his cheek pressed against Wilson’s, Wilson was slowly getting used to the feel of House’s stubble against his skin, it had been strange and slightly painful at first but after a couple of months it wasn’t irritating him as much as it once had.

Wilson rubbed his hands up and down House’s back, gripping at his shoulder blades and occasionally sliding down onto House’s ass very briefly. Once all of the buttons were undone, Wilson sat up slightly and slipped off his shirt. At the same time, House undid a couple of buttons on his shirt and pulled it off over his head. Both topless, the couple resumed their passionate kisses.  
One of House’s hands strayed down to Wilson’s fly but Wilson stopped him, breaking away long enough to utter one word: “Bedroom.”  
It was not a question or an idea, it was a command, and House had no reason to complain.  
The couple awkwardly made their way towards the bedroom, not breaking their embrace even once. House kicked off his shoes and pushed Wilson onto the mattress, settling on top of him.

Wilson loved when House was like this, his leg often prevented him from being very mobile in the bedroom and Wilson spent a lot of time on top, squirming underneath House was a much more pleasurable experience in Wilson’s opinion.

House’s hand once again strayed down to Wilson’s crotch, gently massaging the bulge which had formed there. Wilson let a moan escape his throat, head tilting back against the pillows as a jolt of pleasure rippled through his body. Wilson threaded his arms round House’s back, pulling him closer to his body so that their chests were touching. He repeatedly loosened and tightened his grip, grinding their bodies together.  
“If you don’t stop that you’ll mess up your precious suit pants,” House murmured, finally managing to remove Wilson’s belt and rapidly undoing his fly.  
Wilson lifted his butt off the bed slightly allowing House to remove his pants, leaving him laid there in only his boxer briefs, which were pulled tight around his aching erection.

“My turn, I think,” Wilson said, rolling House over – quickly, but gently – and positioning himself so that he would be able to prevent House from moving too much and not be touching House’s injured thigh. Wilson popped the button on House’s pants with an amount of skill that came only from experience, then gently tugged them down House’s legs, careful not to put too much pressure on House’s right thigh. House’s hands roamed across Wilson’s back, heading slowly down towards Wilson’s boxer briefs, when House’s fingers met the waistband he slid his fingers under the material and gently pulled them off.

With Wilson completely naked, House rolled him over so that he was once again underneath. House removed his own underwear, freeing his erection which immediately rubbed against Wilson’s causing both men to groan in pleasure.  
House leaned downwards (House had experimented over the last few months and managed to find a position where he could suspend himself over Wilson with his leg barely hurting) gently biting at Wilson’s collarbone.  
“Oh shit, House,” Wilson mumbled, breathing deeply.  
House moved his lips upwards slightly, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot where Wilson’s neck and shoulder met, when he removed his lips a fairly large bruise had been left behind. Wilson’s hands once again started to explore House’s back, while House slowly slid his body against Wilson’s, the pressure was immensely pleasurable for both men.

House lowered his hands to Wilson’s hips and pinched at the soft skin to the side of Wilson’s stomach.  
“Ow,” Wilson said, voice somewhere between a cry of pain and a giggle of laughter. “Why’d you do that?”  
“I’m a crab, remember? These are my pincers,” House replied, clapping his hands together like castanets.  
Wilson let out a chuckle which quickly turned to a moan as House leaned down again, rubbing their cocks together with delicious pressure. Wilson arched his back as he felt waves of pleasure flow through his body, lifting his head up off the pillows Wilson pressed his lips to House’s in a deep passionate kiss, moaning deeply into it as he felt love for House pumping through his veins.

They remained like that for maybe a few more minutes, joined together at the lips with their hips grinding together. Moans, cries of each other’s names and swear words filled the air during the brief periods where they broke apart to breathe.

Wilson felt a heat in his stomach and knew his orgasm was approaching, crying House’s name out as loudly as he could, he shot his load over the two of them. Hearing Wilson cry his name and feeling him shoot his load sent House over the edge and he too orgasmed, moaning Wilson’s name before collapsing on top of him.

House managed to gently roll off of Wilson and they both lay in bed waiting for the feeling to come back to their legs. Once Wilson was feeling sufficiently stable, he headed into the bathroom and brought back a towel, cleaning himself off with it before handing it to House. Once House had wiped himself clean, he handed the towel back to Wilson who threw it into the laundry hamper.

Clambering back into the bed, Wilson wriggled his way under the covers and House followed. Lying back Wilson realized how tired he was, he remembered House wrapping an arm round his waist and whispering gently into his ear: “So I’m Curried Crab then?”  
Wilson vaguely remembered laughing slightly and whispering back, “I like Curried Crab,” before falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was the first fic I ever wrote, back in 2007. I originally joined LJ in order to post it to the House_Wilson LJ comm and, being a naive newcomer, didn't exactly hide that I was 15 at the time, so the mods made me delete it because a minor posting NC-17 material is 'NOT OK'. I remember being pretty pissed at the time, complaining to my friends, "They also DRIVE in the fic and I'm not old enough to do that legally, what's the big deal?" I ended up re-uploading it to the comm about eighteen months later where it remained without problems.


End file.
